Tom Sawyer: Well, if
that ain't just like you, Huck Finn. You CAN get up the infant-schooliest ways
of going at a thing. Why, hain't you ever read any books at all?--Baron Trenck,
nor Casanova, nor Benvenuto Chelleeny, nor Henri IV, nor none of them heroes?
Who ever heard of getting a prisoner loose in such an old-maidy way as that?
No; the way all the best authorities does is to saw the bed-leg in two, and
leave it just so, and swallow the sawdust, so it can't be found, and put some
dirt and grease around the sawed place so the very keenest seneskal can't see
no sign of it's being sawed, and thinks the bed-leg is perfectly sound. Then,
the night you're ready, fetch the leg a kick, down she goes; slip off your
chain, and there you are. Nothing to do but hitch your rope ladder to the
battlements, shin down it, break your leg in the moat--because a rope ladder is
nineteen foot too short, you know--and there's your horses and your trusty
vassles, and they scoop you up and fling you across a saddle, and away you go
to your native Langudoc, or Navarre, or wherever it is. It's gaudy, Huck. I
wish there was a moat to this cabin. If we get time, the night of the escape,
we'll dig one.
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